


Murlc'Gora

by CountAile



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: If Blizzard Can Retcon Their Shit So Can I, Mine Makes More Sense, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountAile/pseuds/CountAile
Summary: Sylvanas Windrunner has a body double, and nobody can tell them apart with their hoods on. Of course she uses this to her advantage. Oh, and her body double is her pet murloc.





	Murlc'Gora

The united army of Saurfang’s followers and the Alliance forces were facing the massive, grim, metal gates of Ogrimmar as if facing their doom. Many of them would die today, trying to take these imposing walls by storm, but - each and every one of them believed it to be a sacrifice for a just cause. They were here to capture the Horde Warchief, Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner, and make her pay for her numerous, horrendous crimes.  
  
They were here to restore the Honor to the Horde, and to finally bring peace to the war-torn lands of Azeroth.  
  
They were but mere fools, with no hope of winning this battle - the lands so easily given to their ceaseless march were hard to move through, and even harder to spot hidden enemies in. The combined army was weary after their hurried march, and was carrying a strike force of Dark Rangers on their tail, ready for a pincer attack at Ogrimmar’s signal - and that’s besides some additional measures taken by the Dark Lady in advance.  
  
Barring yet another intervention from Proudmoore, this combined force of traitors and hypocrites had no chance to survive this day. And a hooded figure, observing these happenings from the wall, didn’t see the glimpse of that woman. Good.  
  
She did notice three figures in the front though. Saurfang, Alduin, and Thrall. The leaders of this small, doomed campa-  
_-SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER! _\- suddenly yelled the leader of the traitors, his coarse voice resonating against barren rock and metal - _I CHALLENGE!.. MAK’GORA!_  
  
Oh.  
Oooooh...  
This was bound to be good…

  


A few minutes later, the gates of Ogrimmar opened willingly, and out of them appeared but two figures. One, a Forsaken flagbearer. The other, Saurfang’s opponent. The two calmly strolled towards an entire army of enemies who were led by three experienced fighters, and stopped a mere few meters shy from the combined forces.  
  
Were the enemies smart by any standard, this would’ve been the exact time to swoop in with all of their might, and try to capture their hated adversary. Not that this would do them any good. But alas - instead, they had decided to go ahead with Saurfang’s proposition. Simpletones.  
  
The figure dressed in light metal and leather armor and covered with a hood, looked feeble and tiny, compared to the massive orc, and yet, his body language was that of deep fear, as if he knew he had no chance, and just wished to end his life. And by the looks of it, his opponent had accepted the challenge.  
  
At a signal, the Forsaken flagbearer had unsheathed and gave away two short blades - each looking like but a toothpick compared to the axe and the magic sword given by Alduin and wielded by Saurfang. And then, with no signal, the duel had begun.  
  
The massive orc charged, swinging his heavy axe against his enemy with all of his might - only to be stopped dead in the middle of the swing by one of those toothpick blades. Then, two swift strikes, one to the throat, and one to the chest. Painful, but shallow - either his opponent planned to drag this out, or the blades were too short to reach his vitals. Mabe both. Maybe they were too short in order to drag this out. Another axe swing - stopped once again with ease, and another two swift cuts, one to his gut, and one to the back of his knee. Neither was enough to end his life. Yes, he was toyed with.  
  
It was hard to hear what the two combatants were talking about - especially amidst the constant murmur on the walls and from this distance - but by the looks of it, whatever the smaller figure was saying, enraged the half-dead orc enough to grant him enough strength for a series of futile swings amidst an infuriated rant. Probably about Honor. Anyone who knew High Lord Saurfang at all knew, that he always talked about Honor, and each time the concept meant something different, so it quickly became white noise for anyone with at least half a brain. Either way, amidst his flailing the old orc had remembered that the human king’s sword can split it two - and that allowed him to land a lone, lucky, shallow hit on his opponent’s face.  
  
Then, a single notion, yelled in rage after such a hit, had cut through the noise of the murmur on the walls of Ogrimmar.

  


_“YOU ARE ALL NOTHING!”_

  
This phrase, albeit not verbatim, was clear enough to all who had a pair of ears, but meant different things to two armies. With that, a victorious, if naive smile had finally cracked through the orc’s weary face.

_-FOR AZEROBLGRAGH!_  
The traitorous High Lord Saurfang, hit by his opponent’s blast amidst that battle cry, disappeared in an explosion of menacing black mist. And from that same cloud, soon appeared but a still corpse bearing his semblance.

Magic was not against the rules of Mak’Gora. Most Warchiefs and their opponents had no talent for it, so it was rarely used - but there were no rules forbidding it. And why would there be, since a Warchief was not supposed to tremble in fear of his own allies? But either way, it seemed like such a clear defeat was not enough to crush the enemy’s morale. Some clearly thought that the use of magic was dishonorable. Some clung to hope that the forces on the wall now turned against the victor. And with that, it was time for her to act. This was going to be immensely satisfying..

After giving out a short, simple command, she stepped forward and, with a quick, discerning glance at the army beneath the city walls, clapped. A slow, loud, mocking clap, that quickly drew attention of the enemy to her hooded figure.

_-Oh, High Lord Saurfang. Finally received his Warrior’s Death at the hands of his hated enemy~ _\- her voice, unbearably sweet yet ethereal, was bearing clear ridicule, as she dropped her hood - _Good job, Gillvanas~_  
  
There, from the walls of Ogrimmar, at the combined army of the Alliance colonizers and the traitorous vermin, was looking the Warchief, Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner herself. At her silent command, the one who killed Saurfang with such an ease, dropped their own hood and looked with an empty, glass stare at the enemy, giving them a toothy grin.

_-MURGLARGHL!_ \- cried the small figure, as the Banshee Queen gave the flabbergasted and slowly approaching the horrendous realization enemy a sickeningly sweet smile.

_-He must be proud. Killed in a real fight to the death, albeit by a hand of a single murloc~ _\- mused Sylvanas taking in every second of all these faces contorting into deathly grimaces of disbelief. She gave herself a few moments to enjoy the view, since her troops needed these moments as well - _But don’t you worry, my darlings, your fate would not be as shameful as his. Enjoy~_

At her gesture, Gillvanas turned into mist and quickly fled to the wall. The flagbearer did so even earlier, once everyone’s attention was given to the Banshee Queen’s deadringer. Nobody had an easy time telling Gillvanas and Sylvanas apart, and the news of Dark Lady’s body double wouldn’t really leave this battlefield today.

A second later, the ground in-between the still alive leaders of the combined army, and the rest of the troops, was hit by a huge barrel, that exploded into sickly green mist. Blight.  


  


### *****

### 

The enemy did not manage to escape. The precious time, brought by the mocking diversion, was enough to surround the enemy troops by a cloud of blight, so they had nowhere to run - and even those who, barely alive, managed to get through, were shot on the spot by the dark rangers. Thrall, trying to seize the wall with the unconscious boy-king in his arms was beheaded with a single strike by the Dark Lady herself, though Alduin was captured, healed, and was now the Horde’s prisoner, A tight, clean military operation with no casualties on the loyalist side.  
  
Sylvanas allowed herself a slight, satisfied smile after she finished reading the report. With this victory, the Horde was practically free of the traitor’s influence, and was in an amazing position to bargain with the Alliance. Perhaps with the boy king in her prison, and the Alliance’s hope finally extinguished, there was hope for somewhat lasting piece and rebuilding.  
  
_-Gillvanas~_ \- the Banshee Queen called, and her pet quickly appeared through the tiny door in her throne chamber - _Be a dear, and fill in for me for the rest of the day~_  
  
The murloc happily nodded. The clever little creature was more than capable of sitting on her throne, nodding and letting out easily interpreted however one wants to sounds, and it received fresh meat and fish for the trouble.  
  
The Dark Lady, meanwhile, wanted to visit Admiral Proudmoore. It was her inaction that allowed for this victory, and Sylvanas couldn’t send her a box of chocolates, let alone her slimy pet, after all...


End file.
